


Thicker Than Water

by LadyWallace



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas is on the run, Cas worries about both boys, Dean's lost on a hunting trip, Episode: s08e21 The Great Escapist, Gen, Hurt Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Major Dean whump, Sam and Cas friendship, Sam and Cas to the rescue, Sam is sick from the Trials, Season 8, Sick Sam, Team Free Will, Tortured Dean, Trials Sam, Worried Sam, captured dean, gen - Freeform, mild episode AU, worried cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-11-13 19:26:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18037424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyWallace/pseuds/LadyWallace
Summary: Castiel is on the run from Naomi when he gets a call from Sam: Dean has gone missing on a hunting trip. With Castiel wanted by Heaven and Sam ailing from the Trials, it's all they can do to keep going, but they'll find Dean if it's the last thing they do because for family, they'll risk everything, even life itself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set between 8x19 "Taxi Driver" and 8x20 "Pac-Man Fever" but is also in part an AU of "The Great Escapists" Hope you all enjoy!

Sam stared at the blank screen of his phone, anxiously chewing a thumbnail.

It had been two days since Dean had called him.

Yes, Dean could get caught up on a hunt, and he wasn't obligated to inform Sam about everything he did, but Dean had left three days ago and he had only sent Sam a short text when he had gotten to the town that had a supposed vampire nest. Since then—nothing. Considering that Sam was sick from the Trials and Dean was the worst mother hen in existence, the fact that he hadn't called to check in on him if not just to report on the case was enough to cause Sam worry.

Something was definitely wrong.

Sam grabbed his phone again and called Dean one last time. Voicemail, just like the last twenty times.

And he'd already tried all the other phones with the same result. He knew Dean would have informed him if his phone had stopped working or had been broken anyway—that's why they had other phones after all. All of this was really just wishful thinking to keep him from the truth.

That Dean was lost on a hunt, that he was probably hurt, maybe worse, and that he never should have gone without Sam.

Sam pushed himself up from the library chair and fought off a wave of dizziness as he staggered a few steps, waiting for the room to stop spinning. He needed to go find his brother. Problem was, he wasn't even sure he could physically make it.

Sam glanced back at his phone, wondering if there was someone else he could call.

He knew who he wanted at his side—Cas. But they hadn't seen the angel since he went AWOL with the Angel Tablet. Still, Sam didn't know who else to call for help.

He snatched his phone and called Cas' number and nearly threw it across the room when he heard the automated voice saying the line had been disconnected. His anxiety sparked a coughing fit and he had to sink into a chair, grabbing a tissue as blood spattered from his lips. He took several deep breaths, trying to keep the black from encroaching on his vision and closed his eyes. He could still pray to Cas., providing the angel was even listening. Either way, this was the last hope he had right now.

"Cas," he said softly. "If you can hear me…look I don't know what's going on with you, but I need your help. Dean's missing on a hunting trip and…I can't do this alone, Cas, the Trials messed me up. I need you, please."

He opened his eyes, half hoping to find the angel standing there, ears straining for the familiar flap of wings, but the bunker was empty. Sam sagged then pushed himself upright again determinedly, grabbing his jacket from the back of another chair and heading to pack his bag and some weapons. He would find his brother himself then, even if he died in the process.

_~~~~~~~_

_Castiel was sitting at a diner,_ drinking coffee when he heard Sam's prayer.

_If you can hear me…look I don't know what's going on with you, but I need your help…_

He had been on the run since he had left the Winchesters and Meg at that warehouse. He felt a pang at the memory of that night. Meg had sacrificed herself to get them out of there, and Sam and Dean…he had known running would confuse them, make them angry even, but he didn't know what else to do. Touching the Angel Tablet had cleared his head, broken the hold Naomi had over him and given him clarity for the first time since he had gotten out of Purgatory. All he could think about was what could happen if the other angels got their hands on the Tablet and if they had found him again so he did the only thing he could think of, and ran.

Even now he had angels on his trail, he couldn't stay any place for very long. He'd tried various methods of warding himself, but so far, he hadn't been successful. He knew that staying away from the Winchesters was keeping them safe. Knew the angels would use the brothers as leverage to capture him if they could find them, and Castiel couldn't stand the thought of that happening.

But now…he heard Sam's pleading in his prayer, his desperation. And if Dean was lost on a hunting trip, he could be hurt or worse—the angels may have even found him, though Castiel thought they would surely let him know if that was the case, unless they interrogated Dean to see if he knew where Castiel was. Either way, Castiel knew he had made his decision. He couldn't leave his friends like this. Despite the danger his proximity to them brought, there was also a danger in Sam going after his brother alone in his condition. And Dean had prayed to Castiel himself not so long ago, asking him to look after Sam. And was it not his duty anyway to keep those boys, his surrogate family, alive?

He figured Sam was at the Men of Letters bunker they had told him about in Lebanon Kansas and he made his way there, stopping several other places first to make sure he wasn't followed. He was pretty sure he had shaken the patrol that had nearly caught him the day before but it never hurt to be too cautious.

The warding on the bunker made it so that he couldn't just fly in, but he got to the entrance and knocked on the door.

As the minutes stretched out, he worried he had missed Sam and the young man had already gone off to find his brother, but eventually he heard a scraping of metal and the door opened from the inside, revealing the younger Winchester.

His eyes widened and Cas felt a pang of guilt at the surprise on Sam's face, as if he had not expected him to come at all.

"Cas, hey!"

"Hello, Sam," Castiel said as he stepped inside hesitantly. "I heard your prayer."

Sam swallowed hard and nodded, stepping aside so Castiel could get in and closing the door behind him.

"Cas, thanks; look, I know you have a lot on your plate, but I could really use the help."

Castiel frowned. "Sam, you and your brother…I still consider you my family. I will always help you if I am able to."

Sam's face slackened in relief which only made him look more exhausted. He nodded in thanks and motioned Castiel down the stairs. Castiel went ahead of him and took in the bunker for the first time. It was vast, orderly, and he could feel the warding that protected it. It was very strong and should keep just about anything that could hurt the Winchesters out…including the angels searching for him. In fact, if he wasn't mistaken, it should even keep them from tracking his grace signature while he was in here. He breathed a little easier with that knowledge.

"This place…I like it. It's very secure," he complimented as he turned back around toward Sam.

The younger Winchester was gripping the end of the stair rail and breathing heavily, sagging slightly. Castiel frowned and reached out to touch his arm, afraid of him falling over.

A clash of discordant notes coming from Sam's soul washed over him and Castiel's breath caught in his throat. He looked up to meet the younger Winchester's eyes and saw the pain written in every line of his body, going far deeper than just the fever and the failing organs.

"Oh, Sam," he breathed. "You look terrible."

Sam huffed a laugh as if Castiel had said something funny as he leaned back against the rail. "Yeah, um…I did the second Trial and it…well, let's just say I may have been feeling the effects before, but now it's really throwing me for a loop."

Castiel shook his head. "Sam, you shouldn't even be leaving the bunker. You should be in bed."

Sam shook his head firmly, pushing off of the railing and marching over to a large map table in the middle of the open room and grabbing a bag, throwing a few things into it. "No. That's what Dean told me too, and he didn't come back. I'm not going to let the same thing happen to you. I can't just sit here not knowing what's going on, I'll be better once I'm doing something to actively find my brother."

Castiel, conceded with a nod. He had learned a long time ago that there was no point in arguing with the Winchesters. They were possibly the most stubborn force on the planet.

"I understand," he said. "But Dean also asked me to look after you so I hope you won't be doing anything stupid without me."

Sam actually laughed this time. "Don't worry. If I do something stupid I'll be sure to let you know." He slung the duffle bag over his shoulder and picked up some keys from the table, tossing them to Castiel. "I hope you can drive."

Castiel caught the keys and studied them briefly. "I think I can figure it out."

"Great, let's go save my reckless idiot brother."

_~~~~~~~_

_Dean was already coming_ to when he hit the floor with a heavy _whump_ , but after that he was definitely awake. He couldn't see anything past the cloth tied tightly around his eyes and he could only give a muffled grunt around the gag in his mouth. His head ached, but he still struggled as well as he could even though his hands and feet were tied.

He couldn't believe those vamps had gotten the drop on him like that. Okay, so there had been a few more than he had originally thought, but still. He was already getting rusty since his time in Purgatory.

A foot thudded into his side and he curled up defensively, ready for more blows but none came. Instead he heard several figures walking around and voices.

"This is him?"

"Yes, this is Dean Winchester."

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he felt one of the figures crouch down right next to him and then the blindfold was yanked from his head and the gag removed roughly from his mouth. Dean blinked, eyes adjusting quickly to the dim light of the room and saw a dark-haired man crouching in front of him.

Well, 'man' was being generous; Dean knew well enough that this guy was a vamp.

"Well, well, well, Dean Winchester in the flesh. I've heard so much about you," the vampire said.

Dean licked his lips to wet his mouth. "Can't say the same for you, bloodsucker."

Another kick to the back. Dean grunted and tried to flex his numb hands.

The vampire looking down at him smiled coldly. "You wouldn't know me, I know, but allow me to introduce myself. I'm Virgil, and I belonged to the nest that you and Benny Lafitte brutally slayed a couple months back."

Dean blinked. "The vampirates?"

Another blow thudded into his back and Dean whipped his head around with a sneer seeing the huge vampire who had been responsible for bringing him here after stuffing him in the trunk of a car.

"We are all that's left of that nest now," Virgil said. He didn't sound too broken up about it. In fact, instead of grief, his eyes simply held a cold hard hatred. Dean didn't like his chances. He tried to twist his numb hands into his jacket where he had stashed some syringes of dead man's blood that his captors hadn't seemed to find yet. He took a quick look around the room. There was Virgil, and the vamp who brought him in, and then three others hovering over to one side. He knew he wouldn't have much of a chance tied like this and surrounded, but if he could at least stick Virgil with the blood, then he might be able to confuse the rest of the nest long enough to attempt an escape.

"We vowed to make you and Benny pay," Virgil finished with a shrug.

"Benny's dead," Dean grunted. He could feel the syringes, but he was having trouble forcing his numb fingers to grasp them.

"We know," Virgil said calmly. "That's why we're going to take it all out of your ass instead."

Dean finally grasped one of the syringes and held it tightly, easing it out and was just about ready to roll over and jab it into Virgil's thigh, when the other vampire shoved a boot into his shoulder, forcing Dean onto his face. He grunted and growled as the vamp reached down and twisted the vial of blood from his hand.

"Virgil," the vamp growled.

Virgil took the syringe delicately, standing up and studying it, making a tsking sound with his tongue. "Dead man's blood, Dean? Naughty, naughty. That's not exactly playing fair, now is it?" He nodded to his bruiser. "Search him. He probably has more."

The big vamp kicked him hard in the ribs again and slammed Dean onto his back, pinning Dean's hands under him as he bent and groped inside the hunter's jacket.

"Whoa, hey, watch it, you handsy bastard, I don't swing that way!" Dean growled, wriggling to make it as difficult as possible. The vampire pulled another syringe out of his inside pocket and relieved him of a small dagger he found when he yanked Dean's boots off. Dean watched helplessly as his last two plans for escape were handed over to his captor who then handed them to one of the other vamps waiting to one side who took them gingerly.

"Get him up," Virgil said to his bruiser, jerking his chin at Dean.

Dean was hauled upright, his ankles stayed tied but his hands were cut loose. He tried to struggle free, but another vamp came over and helped hold him, completely relieving him of his coat, and lashing his hands together in the front this time. Then the big vamp hauled him to the middle of the dingy room, stretching his hands above his head before securing the ropes that bound him to a hook that was attached to the ceiling.

Dean growled and tried to move, but his feet were only barely scraping the ground and the extra movement only put more pressure on his wrists and shoulders. The vamp punched him in his vulnerable stomach once for good measure, forcing the breath out of Dean with a _whuff._

Virgil shook his head, snapping his fingers at the final vamp who came forward, handing him a length of chain. "You hunters are all the same, so arrogant, entitled; but you, Dean Winchester, are the worst of them all. You and your brother have hunted so many of us, and yet, ironically, you chose to ally yourself with the one vampire we all hated more than you. And then you helped him kill his family." He wrapped the chain around his hand to get a grip on it and Dean's stomach plummeted, knowing what was coming. "I wish Benny was here now to see what I plan to do with his human pet."

"I wish he was too," Dean snarled. "I'd help him gank your ass too, you bloodsucking son of a bitch."

Virgil was in his face instantly, hand gripping his jaw and wrenching his head to one side to expose his throat. Dean closed his eyes as the vampire's breath washed over his skin and he was sure he was about to feel fangs sink into his neck any second.

"I'm going to enjoy killing you, Dean. I'm going to drink you dry. But not for a very, very long time. First I'm going to make sure you suffer for every one of my kind you have killed during your pitiful human life. Before I'm done with you, you'll be begging me to tear your throat out and put and end to it. But don't expect I'll ever allow you that mercy. It's too good for scum like you."

Dean forced a smirk onto his lips, glowering into the vamp's face. "Well, now, don't go making promises you can't keep."

Virgil stepped back, wrapping the chain around his hand again then took aim and swung.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel drove rather cautiously down the highway. This was the first time he had actually attempted to drive a car, but he realized it wasn't hard once you remembered what did what. He may not have known how but Jimmy Novak had and even though the man's soul was no longer in his body, Castiel could still access his memories from their time sharing a vessel. He was just glad he was able to do something to help Sam, because the younger Winchester was not doing well and with Dean missing on top of it, Castiel was afraid Sam was going to run himself into the ground. He was determined to keep that from happening.

"So Dean went missing hunting a vampire nest in Oregon?" Castiel asked, glancing over at Sam who was reading news articles on his tablet.

"Yeah, we started hearing about reports of bodies showing up, exsanguinated—bitemarks in their necks, the usual."

"And he left three days ago?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, only heard from him once and then…nothing." He slumped back in the seat and started chewing on his fingernails as Castiel had seen him do when he was nervous. "I should have insisted on going with him even though he was right; I can't even shoot straight. Still, I tried to get him to find another hunter but after the issue we had with Martin…" He shook his head.

Castiel felt the pain of guilt eking into his chest. He'd heard about their hunt with the old hunter who had nearly killed a girl and because of it forced Benny's hand to kill him. They wouldn't have had to turn to unreliable sources if Castiel had been there for them instead of off doing whatever it was Naomi had been using him for—even now he wasn't entirely sure of everything he had done. All he knew was that he'd lost time, probably moments she had carved from his head after 'conditioning' him.

"Sam, I'm sorry I wasn't there," he said quietly with a regretful sigh. "I just thought…I was just trying to keep you both safe."

Sam turned a tired smile toward him. "It's okay, Cas. I get it. And you're here now, that's all that matters."

Castiel was silent for a few seconds, the guilt not dissipating despite Sam's words. "We will find him, Sam."

"I know," Sam said and the two of them drove in companionable silence for a few more minutes until Cas heard the inhalation of Sam's breath that told he was going to speak.

"Look, Cas, I don't want to pry, but…the thing with Naomi—does she still have a hit out on you?"

Castiel shifted uncomfortably in the seat, readjusting his grip on the wheel. "Yes. Part of my hesitation of coming to the bunker was that I was afraid to lead her angels there. I have been eluding them successfully so far, but I fear that won't last forever. Though hopefully we'll find Dean before that happens." He glanced over at the younger Winchester. "But don't worry. She isn't in my head anymore. Not since I touched the Angel Tablet."

Sam nodded. "And the Tablet? Did you find somewhere to hide it?"

Castiel bit his lip, suddenly very aware of the heavy hunk of stone currently resting inside of him. "It's safe," was all he said.

Sam pressed his lips together, possibly disappointed but also understanding that Castiel didn't give him any details. "Okay. But if you don't feel like it's safe where you have it, the bunker would probably be as safe a place as any to keep it. And for you to stay when we get Dean back."

Castiel was slightly surprised by Sam's invitation. Certainly he had felt more secure there than he did on his continuous flights around the country, dodging Naomi's patrols. And he was exhausted, his grace wearing down from the constant running. He would like to be able to stay in one place and know he was safe from her reach.

"Thank you, Sam, I…I may take you up on that offer. Providing it's okay with Dean."

Sam glanced over at him meaningfully. "Cas, Dean doesn't blame you for what happened. He knows it was Naomi controlling you."

Castiel let out a long breath, eyes fixed on the road ahead as his knuckles whitened on the wheel. "I blame me."

Sam seemed like he was about to say something when a wet cough burst from his throat instead. He doubled over in the seat and hacked into his hand. Castiel glanced over worriedly, slowing the car down, wondering if he should pull over.

"Sam?" he inquired.

"I—I'm good," Sam said before coughing a couple more times and then leaning back against the seat, eyes closed as he breathed through his nose. Castiel didn't miss the blood on his palm as it rested limply against his thigh. Castiel pulled over and reached into the back of the car for a bottle of water and found a couple napkins when he fished around in the console between the seats. He handed both to Sam who nodded gratefully and took a long drink of water.

"Do you need us to stop for a while so you can rest?" Castiel asked him quietly.

Sam shook his head. "No. I can rest we when stop tonight. Just keep driving. Nothing's going to help anyway. The only thing that will make me feel better right now is finding Dean."

Castiel nodded in understanding and pulled back onto the road, continuing on the long drive to their destination. Sam went back to looking up stuff on his tablet, but he was pinching the bridge of his nose as if his head ached and his chest heaved every once in a while with suppressed coughs. Castiel felt dread settle into his stomach, heavier than the Tablet resting there. They may be able to find Dean, even lost on a hunting trip, but he was at a loss when it came to curing Sam.

Castiel had a feeling that the weeks to come wouldn't be easy on any of them.

_~~~~~~~~_

_Dean woke groggily_ as voices talked around him. His whole body was in agony. He could hear distant voices, probably the vampires deciding who was going to drink him first. He had passed out at some point during the beating Virgil gave him for which he was glad. He couldn't even pinpoint a part of him that hurt worse, he felt as if he were simply made of pain.

And worse, thoughts of Sam began to creep in through the veil of semi-consciousness. How many days had it been now? How long had it been since he called? Sam had to be worried by now, and sick on top of it. Dean dreaded the thought of his little brother heading out to find him alone. And who else would be there to help him? Cas was in the wind, Benny was back in Purgatory—not that Sam would call on the vampire for help unless maybe if he was really desperate. Even Meg was dead now.

His brother was all alone because Dean had made the stupid mistake of getting caught on a hunt.

He briefly toyed with the idea of praying to Cas, but the voices got louder as if they had come into the room now. An open palm collided with his cheek, jerking his head to one side before someone gripped his jaw.

"I know you're awake," said a sing-song voice in his ear.

Dean grunted and pried his eyes open. One was swollen completely shut or maybe fused with dried blood. He blinked his one good eye and saw a blurry Virgil standing in front of him.

"Not so tough now, are you?" another voice said from behind the vamp leader, a scrawny female who was practically salivating at all the blood Dean was dripping.

"I don't know, sweetheart," he slurred. "Why don't you come over here and try me?"

Virgil slapped him again for that and then brought his other hand up to push the collar of Dean's shirt away from his neck. Dean swallowed hard, more aware than usual of his pulse as Virgil's eyes locked onto his jugular.

"It's been a while since we've fed," he said, and Dean heard the lust, the hunger, in his voice, but the vampire shook himself, obviously in control. At least he had that going for him. "You'll be quite the treat, Winchester."

The female vampire edged closer, breathing heavily, but Virgil shoved her away. "You'll get your turn, Katrina. You and the others. But as the leader, I do get some perks. Like first blood."

"Try it, you son of a bitch," Dean growled then cried out as Virgil's fangs descended instantly and he sunk them into the side of Dean's neck.

He struggled in his bonds, causing his shoulders to feel like they would pop from their sockets as the vamp drank his blood.

Virgil pulled away quicker than expected though, Dean's blood dripping down his chin as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped it away, licking his lips.

"Tastes like justice," he said with a cruel chuckle.

Dean grunted, panting, his own blood dripping down his neck to soak into the collar of his shirt, the holes in his neck stinging in a fresher, sharper pain than the rest of his body.

Virgil nodded to the huge vampire who had come in. "Steven, get him down and put him in the guest room. Once you have him secured the rest of you can feed—just remember to leave him breathing."

The other vamp nodded and reached up to release Dean from the hook. The hunter dropped to the ground, his legs unable to support him and he just barely bit back a cry of pain at the agony that sang through his arms and shoulders. It was worse than the pain from the beating in that moment.

The huge vamp grabbed him by the back of his shirt and dragged him up a flight of stairs in the old deserted building, and down a hall to a small room at the end of it. It was bare except an old bed with a disgusting bare mattress on it. Dean saw from the copious blood stains that this room must have held other prisoners before him. Ones that probably hadn't lasted as long as he was going to.

He struggled but was hard-pressed to put up a good fight in his current condition. It was sad, really, and the big vamp simply sneered at him and threw him bodily onto the mattress.

Dean felt his injured ribs protest as the vamp cut his bonds and then pressed him flat, locking his wrists into manacles that were already attached to the bed.

"Aw, come on," Dean groaned. "You kinky son of a bitch. I already told you I don't swing that way."

The vamp sneered and locked the manacles tight around his wrists, the metal already digging into him. "That'll be the least of your worries. Trust me."

He locked Dean's ankles in the same way and then stepped back, smirking as he watched Dean test them out, jerking on them as hard as he could. Unfortunately, despite the decrepit look of the bed, it was freakin' solid.

The vamp turned to the door where the rest of the nest had gathered, hungry looks in their eyes, and nodded to them in invitation. Dean didn't have time to blink before the vamps were on him, surrounding the bed. They tore at his clothes, completely ripping off his shirts in pieces to get at his flesh. They attacked him like ravenous wolves, some climbing onto the bed. Teeth were in his neck and wrists, anywhere his blood pumped closest to the skin. Dean screamed in pain and terror as he felt them draining his life away, clawing at him in their desperation.

Then finally it all started fading into the background as he felt a fuzziness overtake him, the all-too-familiar feeling of losing a lot of blood fast. Dean closed his eyes and let the darkness take him.

_~~~~~~~_

_Castiel stopped for gas_ and so they could stretch their legs in the late afternoon. He looked up at the sky as he pumped the gas, knowing they wouldn't get to the town where Dean had disappeared that night. He had been driving slower than he realized. He could have just flown them there, he supposed, but any flare of his grace could alert the angels after him of his presence and he couldn't risk that. Besides, angel travel wasn't exactly easy on humans and in Sam's condition he was afraid it would make him worse.

Speaking of Sam, Castiel's friend was looking even worse than he had when he'd found him at the bunker. Castiel came back from the store where he had paid for the gas to find Sam leaning against the side of the car, bowed over, and clutching his head.

"Sam, are you okay?" Castiel asked and reached out to put a steadying hand on his shoulder. He frowned as he felt how warm Sam was. At least four degrees above the typical human body temperature. He frowned worriedly "You have a fever, why didn't you tell me?"

Sam sighed and rubbed his eyes, keeping them squinted in the last afternoon sun. "Why? I've had a low-grade fever off and on since I finished the second Trial. Just like everything else, it's not going to get any better; I've just gotta push through it."

Castiel pressed his lips into a thin line, wanting to shake his head at the stubbornness of Winchesters. "You need to rest, Sam," he said firmly, deciding that he would make the executive decision here. "We're not going to reach the place Dean disappeared tonight and you need a bed. We'll find a motel in town."

"Cas…"

"Sam, you can't save your brother like this," the angel said firmly and saw that Sam was finally allowing him to wear him down. He sighed and nodded.

"Okay. We'll stop for the night."

Castiel felt some relief at Sam's acquiescence and offered the young man a steadying hand on the elbow as he lowered himself gingerly back into the car.

They only had to drive a few more minutes to find a motel and Sam gave him a card to rent a room for the night.

Once he had finished with that and had their key, he drove the car away from the front office and parked outside the room, watching as Sam pulled himself wearily from the car. Castiel reached back to grab the hunter's bag for him and headed forward to unlock the room.

Sam's shoulders slumped and he instantly went to the nearest bed and sat down on it heavily.

"Do you need something to eat?" Castiel asked him. "I can go get food for you if you don't want to leave."

Sam shook his head, eyes already drooping closed as he slumped back onto the bed, curling onto one side. "No, I'm fine for now, Cas. Maybe in a couple hours. I just…I want to rest right now."

He was asleep almost instantly and Castiel stood watching the young man looking so much more vulnerable right now than the brave hunter he truly was.

Castiel sighed and reached for the cover on the other bed, taking it over to drape gently over Sam's large frame. He reached down and placed a hand on Sam's forehead, feeling his slightly high temperature again and hoping that a little rest might help him. He closed his eyes and looked deeper, truly exploring the damage to Sam's body now that he wasn't awake to protest.

It wasn't good. The labored breathing, the failing organs; the fever was probably due to his body's natural reaction to fighting something off but this wasn't a virus. Sam's immune system seemed to have completely rearranged itself, seeming confused as to what was attacking its host. This was not a flu, it wasn't a disease, it wasn't anything a normal human body was meant to endure. Sam's pain hurt Castiel to his very core.

He tried to push a little of his grace into Sam, attempting to heal some of the damage but it was unresponsive, having no more effect than it would if Cas hadn't had the use of his powers at all.

He pulled his hand back, feeling heavy with sorrow and regret. Even he didn't know what the end outcome of these Trials would be. Would Sam be miraculously healed once they had all finished? Or was he even meant to survive at all? Either way, Castiel didn't understand how one was expected to perform strenuous, Herculean tasks when they could hardly walk in a straight line. And they still didn't know what the third one was would entail, though Castiel could only imagine it would be even harder to achieve than the previous two.

He sighed heavily and stepped away from the younger Winchester to let him sleep. He went over to the table and reached into Sam's bag, pulling out a can of paint and began to spray warding sigils onto the walls of the motel room. They would be staying the night and he didn't want to chance that the angels might catch up to him here. He didn't stop painting until he could feel the warding pressing down on his own grace. They should be concealed here.

He then pulled out Sam's laptop and did a little research like the Winchesters had taught him, trying to see if he could find out where Dean might have ended up. Sam only knew where he had been going, and it was assumed that he had disappeared in the same town since Dean didn't say he was going anywhere else, but the vampires might have another hideout to keep their hunting ground clean. If he could figure out where that might be, then they may have an easier time of finding Dean.

Unfortunately, he still wasn't very good at getting the computer to tell him what he wanted to know, and he hadn't found much more useful information than Sam already had by the time the younger Winchester was stirring.

Sam groaned and started into a coughing fit. Castiel surged out of his chair and went over to him, carefully helping Sam sit and propping him against his shoulder.

"It's okay, Sam, just try to breathe," he coaxed as Sam gasped to regain his breath. Eventually he managed a deep breath and then another and Castiel left him propped against the headboard to grab a glass of water and a wet cloth from the bathroom.

Sam gratefully wiped his hand and mouth, leaving rusty smears on the cloth, and took a shaky drink of water.

"Thanks," he finally managed.

"Do you feel any better?" Castiel asked.

Sam shrugged. "A little, I guess. Maybe not as tired."

Castiel wasn't exactly convinced. "I should get you something to eat. Soup maybe? That's what humans eat when they're sick?"

Sam smiled slightly and let out a huff. "Yeah, Cas, that would be great actually."

Castiel went down the street to a diner and ordered hot chicken noodle soup to go and also a tea with extra honey and lemon. He knew it wouldn't help Sam's lungs but it might keep him from feeling the urge to cough.

When he got back Sam had moved to sit at the table, the blanket around his shoulders as he frowned at the laptop. Castiel set the food down in front of him, and Sam nodded gratefully.

"I was trying to do a little research, but I don't think I found anything," Castiel said, motioning helplessly to the laptop. "I was hoping to figure out where the vampires may have taken Dean if he is, indeed, a captive."

"Well, I've been trying to look at the surrounding areas, and trying to figure out the same thing," Sam said. "There's several places in the town that are kind of run down—those are the kinds of places monsters usually like to use as hideouts. But, I don't know. We'll have to see for ourselves when we get there."

Sam ate half of the soup and drank the tea. Both seeming to give him at least a little color. But by then he was already slumping over the table and Castiel urged him to get back to bed.

"We'll leave first thing in the morning, but you need to rest," he insisted.

Sam sighed, but complied.

"Do you need any pain medicine?" Castiel asked.

Sam bit his lip as he slumped back down on the bed. "I don't even think it would do anything. But maybe it would help the fever. I think there's a bottle of Tylenol out in the glove compartment of the car."

Castiel nodded. "I'll go get it for you."

He stepped out into the cool night air and unlocked the car, leaning inside to look through the glove compartment. It took him a minute to find the medicine, but he finally grasped the small bottle and straightened up.

It was just at that moment that he felt a familiar prickling on the back of his neck, a ping from his grace.

"No," he murmured, his breath catching in his throat. "No, not now!"

He hurried into the room and went over to Sam who was already laying down, his eyes closed. He gripped the young man's shoulder, reluctant to move him but frantic to get out of there. "Sam, we have to leave, now."

Sam's eyes opened in confusion as he struggled to sit upright. "What is it, Cas?"

"Angels," Cas spat, rushing to throw their stuff in Sam's bag. "They've caught up to me again."

"But the warding…"

"The warding only works if I'm in the room and it won't keep them out," Castiel said bitterly, cursing himself for his stupidity. He reached out to grab Sam's arm, keeping him steady on his feet. "Quick, before they—"

The door suddenly crashed open and Castiel and Sam both whipped around as three angels strode into the room.

"Well, Castiel, looks like we finally found you."


	3. Chapter 3

Dean lay in a half-conscious haze for an undetermined period of time after the vamps left. The ragged wounds from their fangs had clotted over and stopped bleeding, but still stung, especially the ones now decorating both sides of his neck which hurt every time he swallowed.

Swallowing also made him realize how thirsty he was. He wondered if they would give him anything to eat or drink. If they were so into the idea of keeping him around long enough to suffer sufficiently for their liking then they were going to have to give him some kind of sustenance. Because with the blood loss he wasn't going to last long without food or water.

He tugged weakly at the manacles that held him. They were still solidly attached to the bed, but maybe…

Dean looked around, wincing as the movement sent shocks of pain through his neck, and he twisted one of his hands, seeing just how much reach he had.

That was when he noticed there was a hole in the mattress beside his right hand. This was one of those crappy mattresses with the springs in it, which Dean could easily feel poking into his aching body, and he grunted, shifting around, until he could dig his fingers into the hole, searching for a spring.

It took a little maneuvering, but he finally pulled a spring out of the hole and yanked on it until it unraveled a little. It took a little bit of effort to bend it into the right position, but Dean had picked cuffs at worse angles, and once he got it into the locking mechanism, it was only a matter of seconds before he heard the satisfying _click_ that told him his wrist was free.

Dean huffed a breath and quickly yanked the spring free, making short work on his second cuff.

Sitting up to unlock his feet was a chore, and he was lightheaded for a couple seconds, but after a few deep breaths, he was able to get himself completely free and swing his legs over the side of the bed.

He kept his hand firmly on a bedpost as he stood, swaying slightly and looking around for anything he could use as a weapon. He had no idea where his machete had ended up. He hadn't seen that since they jumped him in that warehouse that had been his original lead. Hopefully, they hadn't taken him far because he had left the Impala outside the warehouse. If those bloodsucking bastards had hurt his baby…

Seeing nothing in the room he could use as a weapon, and seeing only the unrepairable remains of his shirt lying on the ground, he resigned himself to having to escape barechested, barefooted and weaponless. But as long as he could escape, get back to his little brother, he would take it.

Dean crept to the door and pressed his ear to it, listening. He didn't hear anything. He could tell by the dingy window in the room that it was day. Hopefully the vamps would be asleep. If he was quiet, he may be able to slip out unnoticed. He would try to escape from the window in his prison but it was on the second story, and he wasn't going to risk broken bones if he didn't have to.

He bit his lip and reached for the doorknob. It wasn't even locked; apparently, they didn't think he would be able to escape.

Dean held his breath as he eased the door open. It had rusty hinges, of course, and it creaked no matter how carefully he tried to push it open. He cringed and halted once he had gotten it open wide enough to slip out of to check and see if anyone had heard it, but there was still no sound.

He slipped out and saw the flight of stairs off to the left. He crept toward them, easing his feet down on each one to make sure the stairs wouldn't creak too much. He got down them without mishap, and made his way into a larger room. He stopped suddenly as he heard a snort.

Dean glanced around and saw a couple beds against the far wall just barely illuminated in the light coming in from behind heavy blackout curtains that had been put over the windows. It looked like the three vampire lackeys were sleeping there. He figured Virgil had his own room, and maybe the bruiser did too since he seemed like the second in command.

Dean's eyes roved the area, looking for an exit. He'd been unconscious when they'd brought him in here and had only been moved once so he didn't know the layout of the place but it didn't seem to be that big, so hopefully he could find some kind of exit.

He crept carefully down the only hallway that he saw at the moment and when he turned at the end of it, he saw a door that looked like it led to the outside. Dean hurried toward it, and found this one to be locked with a padlock around the handle. He cursed under his breath, looking around for something to pick it with. He was just about to decide to go back for the spring, when he saw a large window off to one side. He went over to it, peeled back the curtain and looked around.

There were some old wood planks stacked against the wall and Dean grabbed one, hefting it.

He was only going to get one chance at this and he had to make it good.

He swung, slamming the board into the glass. It shattered and Dean cleared the shards as well as he could before he grabbed the sill and began to haul himself over.

A hand grabbed him by the belt and he was wrenched backwards. Glass cut into his exposed flesh as Dean cried out and crashed to the ground, looking up at the big vamp who was squinting in the light, but snarling down at him.

"Bad idea, Winchester," he growled.

Dean surged to his feet, reaching for the board again but the vamp tackled him, forcing him against the wall with his full bodyweight and slamming Dean's head against it.

Dean saw stars and then a hand was around his throat, slamming his head against the wall again. This time he went limp, dazed, and the vamp kicked him several more times then slung him over his shoulder, hauling him back down the corridor.

"Steven, did we have an escapee?" Virgil's voice cut in along with several interested whispers from the other vampires.

Dean was unceremoniously dropped onto the ground, the breath knocked out of him.

"Almost," the big vamp said. "I'm sure he's going to be very sorry."

"Very," Virgil agreed, crouching down as Dean tried to haul himself to his feet again. Virgil's hand latched around his throat, digging into the raw fang wounds there as he put his face close to the hunter's. "What do you have to say for yourself, Dean?"

Dean glowered up at him. "I say go to hell," he spat.

Virgil _tsked_ , and pulled a knife from the back of his belt. "Let's discourage running again, shall we, Steven?"

The big vamp grinned and grabbed Dean's legs, holding him down while Virgil grabbed Dean's ankle.

Dean tried to kick, but Steven ignored him. "Let me go you son of a bitch!" the hunter shouted.

Virgil only smirked at him and teased the knife between Dean's toes before cutting deeply down the sole of his foot. Dean screamed at the shocking agony, throwing his head back. Virgil then cut across the wound several times from the ball of Dean's foot to his heel and then did the same on the other foot. Dean was mad with pain, clawing at Steven's broad shoulders to try and shove the vampire off of him. Virgil was laughing and licking Dean's blood from the blade of the knife.

"Waste not," he said. "That will teach you to run, Dean."

Dean let out a strangled moan as Steven finally got off him and reached down to grab him under the arms, hauling him to his feet.

The moment Dean's ruined feet touched the floor he yelped and collapsed, darkness encroaching upon his vision.

"Get him to his room, Steven," Virgil said. "He'll need some rest before breakfast."

Dean groaned as Virgil wrapped an arm around his chest and dragged him back to his cell. He threw him on the bed and this time simply wrapped chains around Deans wrists and ankles, and secured them tightly to the bed frame, giving him less room to move. Dean struggled a little, but gave up quickly. He was in agony and despair after the failed escape attempt. He knew he wasn't likely to get another one. And with Sammy home sick, and Cas in the wind, who the hell was going to be looking for him? No one.

This looked like it might possibly be the end of the line for Dean Winchester.

_~~~~~~~_

_Castiel positioned himself_ between Sam and the angels, his angel blade dropping into his hand.

"Ion," he growled, seeing it was one of Naomi's right-hand men and two other angels, already with their own blades drawn.

"Surrender the Tablet to us, Castiel, and there will be no reason for us to use force."

Castiel clenched his jaw. If he had been alone, he would simply fight his way out, but with Sam here and in his current condition, making an escape wasn't going to be easy. Plus in this room with all its warding, he couldn't simply fly them out. Not that that would do any good, the angels would likely just follow them.

"Cas," Sam said quietly behind him, clutching Castiel's shoulder, more to keep himself upright than to try and keep Castiel back, the angel thought. "Don't worry about me, you know you can't let them get the tablet."

Castiel shook his head, reluctantly. "I don't have it, Ion."

"Then you'll tell us where it is," Ion said firmly, stepping forward and closing the door behind them. Castiel glanced around. The angels were between them and the rest of their weapons on the table. He should have set up a line of holy oil as well just in case this happened. There wasn't even another window in this room that Sam could escape from.

Castiel sent a silent apology to Sam and squared his shoulders. "I can't give you the Tablet, Ion."

"You think it's better off in your possession?"

"I think it's better off in no one's possession," Castiel admitted.

Ion shook his head. "Then we'll have no choice but to use force."

He lunged forward and Castiel fell into a fighting crouch, shoving Sam further behind him. He saw the Winchester sprawl against one of the beds out of the corner of his eye, but trusted Sam to take care of himself as he faced off with Ion.

The other angel slashed with his blade but Castiel dodged and swung out with his own. The other angels were converging on him now though and Castiel was crammed into the tight spot between the two beds which made maneuvering difficult. One of the other angels climbed onto one bed and leapt at him, bearing him to the ground.

The back of Castiel's head slammed into the bedside table, dazing him for an instant.

He heard Sam give a cry and looked up to see the hunter swinging one of the chairs from the table at Ion. The angel went down, and Sam reached over and snatched another angel blade from the duffle bag on the table, giving Cas enough distraction to get back to his feet, and lash out. He caught one of the angels across the shoulder, who fell back with a cry.

Ion staggered upright, disentangling himself from the chair and lunging toward Castiel.

Castiel dodged the thrust from one of the angels but didn't dodge the one from Ion. The angel stabbed with his blade and drove it into Castiel's side.

Castiel cried out and staggered back.

"Cas!" Sam cried, then grunted as the other two angels grabbed him, knocking the angel blade from his grip all too easily.

Castiel pressed his hand to the wound in his side, the blood already staining his shirt red. Terror welled up in his throat. A few more inches to the right and Ion would have stabbed directly into the Tablet, revealing Castiel's secret hiding place.

"Where is the Tablet, Castiel?" Ion asked, punching him in the face with the pommel of his blade. Castiel tried to get his own blade up again, but Ion simply stamped on his wrist, reaching down and wrenching it from his hand.

"Where is it?"

"That's enough, Ion."

Castiel felt a chill go down his spine. He looked up at the door, seeing Naomi enter, disgust clearly on her face.

"Get him up, Ion."

Ion grabbed Castiel by the front of his coat and pulled him upright. Castiel grunted at the pain in his side, and Ion righted the chair Sam had thrown and shoved Castiel none-too-gently into it. Sam sat in the other chair by the table, guarded by the two other angels, looking anxious. Castiel swiftly scanned him for wounds but, even though Sam looked exhausted and frustrated, he was unharmed.

"Naomi," Castiel growled.

"Castiel," Naomi returned, striding forward. "You've sent us all on quite the chase. You've always been the famous spanner in the works, but this is honestly just getting ridiculous. How long did you really think you could run? How long did you think you could hide from us?"

Castiel shook his head. "The Tablet was not meant for us. I need to protect it."

"From the angels?" Naomi demanded.

"From all of us," Castiel replied tiredly. Ion hit him across the face again.

Naomi sighed wearily. "I'm just going to have to pull you apart, aren't I?" She glanced around the room and Castiel's stomach dropped when her eyes lighted on Sam. "Or, maybe another tactic will work better."

"Don't touch him!" Castiel nearly snarled. "I will kill all of you."

Naomi's face turned to one of disgust. "Your loyalty to these humans has been your downfall, Castiel. You were always…difficult, but ever since you were first assigned to the Winchesters you were lost. I should have known that first time Zachariah brought you back for me to recondition that it wouldn't last long, but…" she sighed and shrugged. "I suppose your loyalty might actually come in handy now."

"Naomi, don't!" Castiel seethed, as she nodded to the angels holding Sam and one slashed his angel blade across Sam's cheek.

Sam winced, biting back a cry and Castiel tried to surge to his feet, but Ion held him back, pressing his blade to Castiel's throat.

"Where is the Angel Tablet, Castiel?" Naomi demanded.

"Cas, don't you dare," Sam grunted, then cried out as the angel slashed him across the chest and shoulder. He started coughing, doubling over as blood dripped from his lips into his hand. The angels frowned, but slammed him back fully into the chair, forcing his chin up with the tip of the angel blade.

"Stop!" Castiel demanded.

"Tell us what we want to know and we will," Naomi told him in an annoyingly reasonable voice. She strode over and leaned down to look Castiel in the eye. "Tell me where the Tablet is."

Castiel clenched his jaw, glanced over at Sam who was shaking his head at him. Castiel swallowed hard, knowing that even if he admitted where the Tablet was Naomi was going to have them killed. Or at least she would have Sam killed and drag Castiel back off to Heaven for more reconditioning. He steeled himself and turned back to Naomi, meeting her eyes.

"In the words of a good friend," he said firmly, leaning forward slightly. "Bite me."

Naomi's lip peeled back in a sneer. "Oh, we'll bite."

One of the other angels slammed Sam's head against the table and the younger Winchester slumped there, seemingly unconscious. Castiel's breath caught in his throat.

Naomi grabbed the front of his coat and shook him. "Where is it?"

"I won't tell you!" Castiel cried and Naomi slapped him across the face before she stepped back and snapped at the two angels.

"Get the Winchester boy on his knees. I want Castiel to see his eyes dim as he bleeds out."

Castiel watched in horror as the angels dragged Sam upright. He moaned and hunched over, practically falling to the ground when they shoved him onto his knees in front of Castiel's chair.

"Sam," Castiel whispered, then saw something in Sam's hand, pressed against his thigh on the side Naomi couldn't see.

One of the angel's grabbed a fistful of Sam's hair and wrenched his head backwards. Sam met Castiel's eyes, and shifted them toward his left hand. Castiel have an imperceptible nod to tell Sam he was ready for whatever this was.

Naomi nodded to the angels. "Do it."

One of them pressed their blade to Sam's throat at the same moment Castiel slammed his head back toward Ion, dislodging his grip. Sam shoved the piece of paper toward Castiel and the angel realized what it was at the same instant the others did, diving out of his chair.

"No!" Naomi screamed as Castiel slammed his hand down on the paper with the banishing sigil on it.

The other angels screamed as they disappeared in a blinding flash and Castiel slumped forward, pressing one hand to his wound as he reached out to Sam with the other.

"Sam, are you all right?" he demanded, clutching at Sam's sleeve.

Sam shook his head, eyes wide. "I can't believe that actually worked." He swayed slightly, but he was grinning before he looked up at Castiel, seeming like he was having a hard time focusing on him. "Are you okay?"

Castiel still had his hand pressed to his side. "I'll be fine. But we need to go now."

He staggered to his feet and pulled Sam up too. The hunter swayed and leaned more heavily against Castiel than he could handle at the moment, nearly sending them both down.

"I'm sorry," Sam muttered and seemed to gain better footing after a couple seconds. He staggered to his bag and rummaged around for the first aid kit. "Let me at least bandage that so you don't bleed out?"

Castiel pressed his lips together in consent. The fact it was an angel blade would mean it would not heal instantly and they had no time to make things worse by him losing too much blood on top of everything else. That would just make recovery take longer.

He slumped in the chair and allowed Sam to open his shirt with shaky fingers and clean his wound.

"This is pretty bad," he commented. "You'll heal eventually?"

Castiel nodded. "It should be mostly healed by tomorrow."

Sam efficiently cleaned the wound and then went to tape gauze over it after butterflying it closed. He pressed against Castiel's stomach to fix the tape in place and pulled his fingers back suddenly with a frown when he met more resistance than he should have. "Cas, what…" Then his eyes blew wide, and Castiel saw the understanding in them. "Oh god, did you…?"

Castiel sighed wearily. "When I touched the Tablet the first time that's what broke my contact with Naomi. I—I didn't want to risk her gaining control of me again so I thought…if I never stopped touching it then she couldn't touch me."

Sam's face scrunched up in sympathy and he finished with the bandages, picking up the first aid stuff again as Castiel rebuttoned his shirt. "You should have just come to the bunker, Cas. Then you wouldn't have had to hide a freaking stone inside yourself."

Castiel shook his head. "I just didn't want to risk bringing trouble to you and Dean."

"I know you didn't, but you're our family, Cas," Sam said simply. "Your trouble is our trouble too."

Castiel felt something well up inside of him at Sam's simple words. It might be the fever talking, opening up the younger Winchester's inhabitations, but he could tell the sentiment was pure and it made his heart ache, in a good way.

But then Sam doubled over suddenly and started coughing. He buried his face in the crook of his arm and hacked out several wet coughs.

Castiel reached out and grabbed his shoulder. "Sam," he said, not knowing what to do.

Sam shook his head when he finally stopped and straightened up again, swallowing hard. "We need to go. The angels won't be banished for long."

Castiel nodded and helped the young man stand as Sam grabbed his bag and they headed out of the motel.

Castiel drove more quickly this time, determined to get to their destination sooner rather than later. He would feel more comfortable when they found Dean and were able to go back to the bunker where he was positive that the angels couldn't find him.

He was also worried about Sam. The young man had had several violent coughing fits since they left, and though the two cuts the angels had inflicted on him were superficial, he had taken a blow to the head which likely hadn't helped his perpetual headache. Besides that, his fever seemed to only be getting worse by the hour.

He had started babbling a bit about his and Dean's childhood, something about farting donkeys at the Grand Canyon and then had leaned against the car door when Castiel had urged him to get some rest.

Castiel's own wound was proving more of a discomfort than he had anticipated. The seatbelt dug into it so much he'd had to take it off, and when it started bleeding through the gauze again, he'd been forced to pull over and replace it. He knew it would heal as soon as he got some rest, but his grace had been running thin with his constant narrow escapes for the past few weeks. He was hurt, run down, and worried about both Winchesters on top of it. Not a good recipe for a quick recovery.

Castiel was just finishing up reapplying his bandage, when Sam moaned, and stirred on the other side of the car.

"Mm, Cas?" he murmured, blinking in confusion at their dark surroundings.

"I'm here," he said. "I just stopped to change my bandage."

Sam was looking around him like he had no idea what they were doing out there on the side of the road in the middle of the night. Before he could say anything though, a coughing fit over took him and he doubled over in the seat.

Castiel frowned and reached out for him, gripping his shoulder. Sam was burning up. Castiel was almost so shocked he pulled away. Sam's temperature was dangerously high. At least 105 degrees. He could start having seizures at any moment at this temperature.

"Sam, how are you feeling?" Castiel asked, concerned.

"I…I feel…" Sam started coughing again and blood spattered onto the dashboard in front of him. Castiel handed him a napkin and pressed it into Sam's shaking hand.

"Okay, don't try to talk, I'll get you somewhere to rest soon," Castiel assured him and hurriedly put the car in drive again, heading on their way.

They had only about twenty more miles to go to their destination and Castiel was determined to get there. If Sam was going to crash than it would be better he did it closer to where Dean was, that way if he didn't recover enough by the morning, Castiel could put him somewhere safe while he went after Dean himself.

Sam's head lolled against the window and he mumbled incoherently.

"Dean?" he moaned after a while, shifting his head as if looking for his brother. Castiel reached out a hand, squeezing Sam's arm gently, trying to offer some reassurance.

"We'll find him, Sam," Castiel told him softly as he continued to drive.

They made it to the town just after three AM and Castiel pulled into the first motel they came across.

Castiel left Sam in the car and hurriedly went in to rent a room. He just barely remembered to close his coat to hide the bloodstains on his shirt. Thankfully it was dingy in the office and from the look of the place, the clerk would probably not look twice.

He handed the man the card Sam had given him before and then accepted the book the man handed him to sign in.

Castiel glanced at the page, and saw one of Dean's aliases a couple lines above where he signed. He glanced at the room number, memorizing it before he handed the book back to the man and accepted his key.

He hurried back out to the car. "Sam, Dean's been staying at this motel, maybe if we look in his room…"

Sam was slumped against the dashboard, completely limp. Castiel reached out, terror overcoming him as he eased Sam back into the seat. "Sam? Sam!" Sam didn't wake up though, and his fever was even higher now, 108 by Castiel's reckoning. He shook the Winchester again but got no results.

"Sam, please," he pleaded. "Please don't do this."

He could only support his limp friend, wondering what on earth he was going to do now?


	4. Chapter 4

Castiel unlocked the room and hurriedly painted sigils of warding to make sure they would be as concealed as possible before he went back to get Sam out of the car. The younger Winchester was completely delirious with fever, mostly unconscious, and a dead weight. Castiel simply hefted Sam over his shoulder, feeling his wound start to bleed again almost instantly with the effort. He grunted and carried Sam into the room, depositing him onto one of the beds.

The younger Winchester's head lolled and sweat beaded on his forehead. He looked terrible. Castiel put a hand on his chest and felt his pulse; it was thready and racing, Sam's body trying to combat the fever and the damage the Trials had done the only way it could. Sam was far too hot though and Castiel needed to get his fever down.

He looked around, heading to the bathroom and grabbing several washcloths, which he soaked in cool water and brought back to Sam. He put one on his forehead and then swiftly unbuttoned the warm flannel he was wearing, pulling that off and Sam's jeans next then went to crank the room's AC unit down as far as it would go; he needed to get Sam cooled down as quickly as possible. Sam moaned and shivered at the sudden rush of cool air on his heated skin, but Castiel hushed him and washed the sweat off with the other cloth. Both were almost instantly hot and Castiel knew this wasn't going to do any good.

Decided, he went into the bathroom again and plugged up the tub, running the cold water. He then hurried outside with the small plastic bucket the room provided to grab some ice, making several trips until the water in the tub was shockingly cold. He knew this wouldn't be pleasant for Sam, but he didn't know how else he would be able to get the fever down quick enough. At the moment, the fever was more dangerous than anything.

Castiel shrugged out of his coat and rolled up his sleeves before he went back to fetch Sam, carrying him into the bathroom and lowering him as gently as possible into the tub.

It was small and Sam's large frame was cramped but it would work. Sam cried out in his delirium the instant his body hit the water, and Castiel got soaked as he flailed, splashing water everywhere.

"Shh, shh, Sam, you'll be fine, just have to get this fever down," Castiel reached out with his grace, sending a calm over Sam so he wouldn't hurt himself and the Winchester settled, shuddering slightly with small moans, but besides that, he seemed fine.

Castiel knelt on the wet tile beside the tub and cradled Sam's head so he wouldn't slip under and inhale water, bathing his face with a cloth as he waited for the fever to drop.

It nearly scared him to death when Sam's eyes suddenly flew open and he surged up with a cry, sending even more water over onto the floor.

"Easy," Castiel tried, reaching out to steady him before Sam simply grabbed his arm and tried to haul himself out of the cold water.

"What the hell?" Sam demanded, gasping for breath, his teeth chattering as he slipped out onto the floor in a pile of soggy, uncoordinated limbs.

"You had a fever of one hundred and eight, I had to force it down," Castiel explained, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around Sam's shoulders, taking another to start drying his hair.

"Where are we?" Sam asked, looking around.

"We're at the motel where Dean was staying before he disappeared," Castiel told him.

Sam drew in several deep breaths and tried to get up. "Great, we can see if we can track him from here."

Castiel gripped his shoulder before Sam could slip and hit his head on the tub. "Sam, you need to rest, get your strength back. I'll look into Dean's possible location while you sleep."

"Impala," Sam murmured. "Was the car here?"

Castiel shook his head. "No, I don't think he was taken from the motel."

Sam seemed to sag and Castiel took charge again. "Come on, you need to be in bed."

"I need to find my brother," Sam murmured, practically slumping against Castiel as the angel got him to his feet.

"When you can stand on your own," Castiel replied in a longsuffering manner. Stubborn Winchesters.

He maneuvered Sam back out to the main room and helped him into dry clothes before tucking him into the bed. It seemed Sam's exhaustion won out even over his worry for Dean because he was asleep almost before Castiel pulled the sheet over him. The angel put a hand on his forehead and was glad to see that his temperature was back down to just a low-grade fever. Hopefully it would stay that way.

He took one more look at Sam and then slipped out of the room, heading down the sidewalk to the room Dean had been staying in.

He mojo'd the lock open, and stepped inside.

The room hadn't been cleaned yet, for which he was glad. Some of Dean's things were still there, a set of clothes draped over the back of a chair, several take-out containers on the table and beside that a pad of paper with an address scrawled onto it.

Castiel picked it up and took it back to their room along with all the things Dean had left there.

Sam was still deeply asleep when Castiel got back and he took the hunter's laptop out of his bag and looked up the address. It wasn't far from here, somewhere on the edge of town and seemed to be the location of an abandoned warehouse. Castiel had come to realize that a lot of monsters enjoyed hiding out in abandoned warehouses.

He was suddenly torn. He could fly over there, reconnoiter, and perhaps even find Dean and bring him back, but that would leave Sam all alone and sick, possibly delirious. His wish to protect both his friends was conflicting, but he also knew that he needed a few hours rest to heal as well. He wasn't sure he could take out a whole nest of vampires in his current condition and he would do Dean no good if he ended up captured himself.

So, still feeling conflicted but with his hands tied, he decided that getting himself healed was the first priority. After all, with Sam pretty much down for the count, Castiel needed to be as good as was possible right now.

He peeled off his still wet and bloody shirt and put more butterflies onto his wound to help it along. By then the weariness was weighing heavily on him and he simply laid down on the other bed, closing his eyes as he listened to Sam's deep breathing.

Before Castiel knew it he was completely out.

_~~~~~~~_

_Dean no longer paid attention_ to how much time had passed. He only knew when it was feeding time again. The vamps all took turns coming to feed on him, and sometimes one of them would give him water, but that was the only kindness they gave him. He grew weaker and weaker as they drank more of his blood. They only took a few swallows at a time to make sure he lasted, tapping obscure veins now as the more prominent ones in his wrists and the sides of his neck were a mangled mess from multiple feedings.

He drifted in and out of consciousness, delirious most of the time, but when he wasn't he was thinking of everything he missed most.

He thought of the bunker, the first home they had ever really had, his room there full of his own things. His own bed with his own sheets and pillows that smelled like him and not crappy motel soap or worse.

He thought of Sam. Sam, sick back at the bunker, probably going frantic by now if he wasn't collapsed, coughing up a lung with a raging fever. Not being able to be there for his brother was the worst thing Dean could think of. It hurt almost worse than the predicament he was in. Part of him, a guilty part, hoped that Sammy would come for him, but another part hoped he stayed far away and as safe as he could be.

He also thought of Cas. He wanted to be pissed at the angel still for running but he wasn't. Maybe he didn't have the energy anymore, but he had also obviously had a lot of time to think and had realized that Cas had only been doing what he'd thought was best and Dean couldn't blame him for that. Not this time. Though he wished his friend would come back so they could help him. He wished Cas would show up here and smite those damn vampires and take him back home to Sam. Not that Cas needed to rescue his ass from another type of hell, but it would be nice.

_Cas, man,_ Dean prayed silently, before he slipped back into unconsciousness again. _If you're out there listening…I could really use your help._

_~~~~~~~_

_Castiel's eyes blinked open_ and he found himself staring at the cracked ceiling of a motel room.

A voice was echoing in his head and as clarity returned to him he realized it was Dean. Dean praying for his help.

_If you're out there listening…I could really use your help._

Castiel sat up carefully but the pull in his side didn't come. He looked down, peeling back the gauze and was glad to see that there was just a pink scar now, which only twinged slightly when he touched it. It seemed all his grace had needed to heal him was for him to take a few hours of rest.

He glanced at the clock on the side table and realized that the few hours had been nearly eight and it was the next morning. He hurriedly pushed himself out of bed, grabbing his shirt and using some of his grace to repair it.

He finished dressing after clearing the bloodstains from his clothes, then turned to Sam who seemed to actually be sleeping peacefully now. He reached out and touched Sam's forehead, feeling he was still only slightly warmer than he should have been. There was also a lot less turmoil in his body. Castiel felt some tension wash out of him at this revelation and he healed the cuts and bruises Sam had sustained from their run in with the angels.

Sam's brow furrowed and he stirred, blinking his eyes open. He took a second to focus on Castiel but looked slightly relieved to see him there. "Hey."

"Your fever is mostly gone," Castiel told him. "How do you feel?"

Sam pushed himself up carefully into a sitting position and seemed to be taking stock of himself. "I feel better," he said sincerely and glanced back up at Castiel. "How's your wound?"

"Almost completely healed," Castiel replied and went over to the table, taking up the paper he had found in Dean's room the night before. "I broke into the room Dean was staying in, and found this. I think this is where he thought the vampires went."

Sam eagerly took the paper from Castiel, frowning at it. "That must have been where the vamps got the drop on him." He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. He was a bit shaky, but Castiel didn't have to offer him support so he wouldn't fall. Sam hurried over to his duffle bag and grabbed clean clothes. "Do you know where this is?"

"It's about five miles from here on the edge of town. Looks like a rundown area."

Sam nodded and Castiel packed their stuff in the car while Sam disappeared into the bathroom to change. He looked fresher when he came out, and even though he still had dark circles under his eyes and fever flush on his cheeks, he seemed more together today. Probably because they finally had a lead on Dean.

"Let's go," Sam said. "Before the fever catches up to me again."

Castiel nodded and they checked out before driving to the address.

It definitely looked like the kind of place monsters would use as a hideout. Castiel drove around the deserted lot once before he heard Sam make a small noise and sit up straighter, pointing ahead.

"There."

Castiel looked and saw the Impala parked off to one side. He drove over and parked next to it, cutting the engine. He and Sam both got out and cautiously approached the Impala as if afraid of what they would find.

Obviously, Dean wasn't in there, and there were no signs of a struggle around the car.

Castiel had pulled out his angel blade and glanced over at Sam who was carrying a machete.

"We should go inside," he said.

Sam nodded and they made their way toward the slightly open door that led inside the abandoned warehouse.

The door creaked and Castiel winced at the noise but as they stepped inside it was pretty obvious that the place was empty. It was all one room and there was obviously no one in there.

No one living anyway.

Castiel had smelled it the instant they got in there and he knew Sam did too, because the hunter made a face and pressed the back of his hand over his nose.

"What is that?" he asked.

Castiel moved over to the opposite side of the room where there were a bunch of pallets stacked against a wall. The smell seemed to culminate there and he bent to pull several of the pallets off the pile and found the culprit.

The body was wrapped in plastic, and had obviously been dead for over a week. Castiel took his blade and cut through the plastic over the body's face, revealing a middle-aged man with dark hair.

"Oh god," Sam said, coming over. "I think that's one of the missing persons. They must have stashed it here because the other bodies were drawing attention."

Castiel nodded and stepped back. "Well, Dean isn't here, so where else would they have gone?" He didn't voice what he knew they were both thinking which was that the vampires might have up and left, taking Dean with them. And if that were the case then how would they hope to find him before the vampires killed him?

"Vampires are usually pretty territorial," Sam said. "They're reluctant to leave, even if their kills are getting attention." He started out of the warehouse and Castiel followed him. "They may use this place as a stash, but they might live somewhere else, probably somewhere nearby."

They got back to the car, and Sam grabbed his laptop, typing for a couple seconds before he brought up some maps as Castiel transferred all their stuff to the Impala.

Sam finally seemed to find something, calling for Castiel to come over. The angel looked over his shoulder and Sam blew up a portion of the map he was looking at and pointed at the screen.

"Look at this. There's some old foreclosed property not too far from here. Asbestos apparently. I bet that's where they're laying low."

Sam closed his laptop and Castiel got back into the driver's seat, putting the key in the ignition. "Let's go then."

Sam nodded firmly. "Let's bring Dean home."


	5. Chapter 5

They parked down the street from one of the abandoned houses. Sam winced as he pulled himself from the car, grateful, not for the first time, that Cas had offered to drive. He definitely felt better than he had the day before but he thought most of that was probably because of the fact they had an actual lead now and he wanted to find Dean fast. His body ached and he was starting to feel nauseous again, but he was determined to hold it together until they got Dean out of there and were safely back in the bunker.

He went around to the trunk of the car, opening it to pull out his weapons.

"We don't know how many will be in there, but it's daytime so hopefully we'll get the jump on them instead of the other way around," he said as he pulled out his gun clip and a vial of blood. "Bullets with dead man's blood won't kill them, but it might slow them down." He pulled out an extra pistol and did the same thing to those bullets before handing the weapon to Cas, along with a machete.

The angel looked at them somewhat dubiously, but didn't protest. "I just hope Dean is in there."

Sam nodded. "Me too." He closed the trunk after grabbing a machete, and tucked his gun into the back of his belt. "Hey, Cas? Thanks for waiting for me. If you'd come here alone and something happened…" He stopped, hating to admit how scared he was with the idea of being left alone again. After he had completely fallen apart when Dean and Cas both had gotten lost in Purgatory, he didn't want a repeat of that. Not when he was going to need some strong shoulders to lean on if he was going to get through these Trials. Originally, he'd thought he could do them alone, but after truly finding out what they cost, what they were doing to him physically…he may eventually have to take Dean up on his offer to carry him. He may not have a choice.

Cas seemed to understand that and gave him a soft smile. "I think we both need someone to watch our backs right now."

Sam nodded, relief and resolve steeling him, despite his illness. He and Cas strode forward to the side door. Sam tested it but it was locked, seemingly from the inside. Cas motioned him out of the way and stepped forward, putting his hand on the door and with a small metallic click, the door popped open.

It creaked on its hinges as they pushed it open and Sam cringed, hoping the vampires were all asleep, so maybe they would miss the sound.

He and Cas crept inside the dingy interior of the house. There was glass on the floor from a broken window that had been covered in plastic. It looked recent and as Sam studied the area a little more, he saw spots of blood on the ground among the glass, seeming to be only a couple days old if that.

"Cas," he said, nodding to the area.

The angel glanced at him and his face went grim. Sam somehow knew it was Dean's blood and he didn't want to think of what might have happened to his brother here.

They eased forward down the hall as quietly as possible, weapons held at the ready. Yet, still, Sam didn't notice the figure around the corner until Cas seemed to sense it, calling out to him.

"Sam, watch out!"

Sam just barely ducked, still somewhat sluggish and tried to bring his machete up but simply had it knocked straight out of his hands by the hulking vampire standing in front of him.

Sam staggered back, weaponless in a way that should have been embarrassing if he'd had time to care. The vampire slammed a hand into his chest, forcing him against the wall and bared its fangs, lunging for Sam's neck. Sam threw an arm up to ward off the attack but Cas swung his machete and hacked off the vampire's head before it could tear out Sam's throat.

Sam was breathing heavily, feeling somewhat lightheaded from the rush of adrenaline, and Cas offered him a steadying hand, returning the dropped machete to him.

"Sam, are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, just…I'm still a little fuzzy."

"Don't worry, I've got your back, remember?"

Sam nodded and followed Cas further into the house.

There was a large room that had probably once been a living room or something but was now devoid of all furniture besides four cots. None of which were occupied.

Sam and Cas both looked around cautiously.

"This doesn't look right," Cas murmured, gripping his bloody angel blade tight. "They should be sleeping, but where are they?"

Sam shook his head in agreement. "Did they see us coming and leave one vamp as a decoy?"

"I don't know." Cas still looked around. "Let's just go see if Dean is here."

"What makes you think he's still alive?"

Sam and Cas both spun around at the taunting voice and saw a thin, dark-haired man standing there with three other vamps behind him. Sam held his machete with one hand and pulled out his gun with the other.

"I'm guessing you're Sam," the vampire continued, sizing the younger Winchester up with a swift glance. "Your reputation proceeds you, but I've got to say, you look like death warmed over. And you…" he looked at Cas and sniffed the air. "You must be the pet angel."

"I'm no one's pet," Cas said firmly, gripping his own blade. "Where is Dean?"

"He's somewhere around here," the vamp shrugged, waving nonchalantly. "Maybe you'll find him if you can get past me and my nest. But you already killed one of my own—Steven. I'm not going to let that stand. Dean and that traitor bastard Benny already killed the rest of our nest. We're rather big fans of revenge here. Which is why we kept your brother so long instead of just drinking him all up." He grinned and let his fangs fall into place. "I wonder if you'll taste as good as him. And, well, I've never had an angel before. Bet you taste, why, practically divine."

Cas fell into a fighting stance. "I'd like to see you try."

The fight started in a blur, the vampires spreading out quickly and surrounding them.

Sam and Cas took a stance back to back and started swinging the instant the vamps ran at them. A female attacked Sam first, a knife in her hand. Sam dodged one swipe and found another vampire coming at him from the other side. He spun his gun around and shot that vampire in the center of his chest. The vamp went down with a wide-eyed scream, clutching at his chest, the dead man's blood already doing its work.

The female hissed and lunged at Sam, darting in and slicing his thigh with her knife before he could block the blow.

Sam clenched his teeth at the pain and caught her wrist before she could do it again, swinging his machete up and taking her head off.

He heard a howl from the leader who was engaged with Cas.

"Bring him down!" the vampire screamed.

The other male threw himself at Sam's back and Sam went down, losing his gun and finding himself unable to maneuver his machete with the vampire's weight crushing him. He had a knife too and lowered it to the side of Sam's throat, sneering as it cut into his neck. Sam cried out and the vampire's fang descended, wet with saliva, as he leaned over and ran his tongue over the cut.

Sam cringed away but was surprised when the vampire pulled back with a disgusted yelp, spitting to one side.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" it demanded.

His shock gave Sam enough time to wriggle his arm free and bring up his machete, cutting the vamp's head off.

He shoved the vampire's body away from him and staggered to his feet, seeing Cas had finally got the vampire leader on his knees.

"You're probably too late anyway," the vamp sneered at them. "He was looking pretty rough. We were planning on finishing him up tonight—after a little fun."

Cas snarled and swung with his blade, taking the vampire's head off.

Sam turned to behead the one he had shot with dead man's blood and soon the silence fell over the dark room, the only sound Sam and Cas' heavy breathing.

Finally the angel turned to him. "Are you okay?"

Sam reached up and touched his neck with a wince. "Yeah, it's not bad." The cut wasn't, but the fact that he had been seemingly so corrupted by these Trials that even vampires didn't want to drink is blood? He would be lying if that wasn't exactly comforting.

"Come on," Cas said, straightening up after he had bent to wipe his blade on the vampire's body. "They must be keeping Dean in one of the other rooms."

Sam looked over and saw a flight of stairs. "Maybe up there."

They hurried up the stairs, and glanced around. Sam opened one door and saw a lavish bedroom—obviously the vamp leader's. Cas was looking further down and seemed to sense something because he called Sam over and opened the door at the end of the hall.

It was dark, paper plastered over the one window to keep out most of the light, and the sickening metallic smell of old blood permeated the area. There was only one thing in the room, a small bed in one corner.

But that was all that mattered, because there was a familiar figure lying on it.

"Dean!" Sam cried, racing forward and leaning over the bed to get a better look at his brother. Cas reached up to tear the paper from the window to let in more light.

As it illuminated Dean, Sam's heart stopped in his chest.

His brother looked terrible. He was gaunt and pale, dressed only in a filthy pair of jeans, and copious bruises and cuts covered his face and torso as if he had been beaten. He felt sick as he caught sight of Dean's bare feet; the soles had been cut open, probably to deter him from escaping. Sam wondered if he'd made an attempt and had failed—knowing Dean, probably. But even worse were the horrendous wounds that covered both sides of his neck and his arms from wrist to elbow; fang marks from the vampire's multiple feedings. The flesh completely torn beyond repair.

Sam sank onto the side of the mattress, his knees suddenly weak, as Cas set about breaking the chains that wrapped around Dean's wrists and ankles stretching him out on the filthy bed.

"Dean," Sam called softly, touching the side of his brother's face.

Dean let out a groan from between cracked lips and jerked away from Sam's touch. "Leave me 'lone," he murmured.

"Dean it's me, open your eyes," Sam urged him, taking Dean's face firmly between his hands. "It's Sam."

Dean's eyes flickered open and blinked blearily, searching unseeingly for a few seconds before he focused on Sam. "S'mmy?"

Sam smiled, nodding. "Yeah, Dean, it's me. Cas is here too."

Dean looked confused and glanced to the other side where Cas was leaning anxiously over the bed. "Cas? You…you heard me?"

Cas smiled and nodded. "I did, but Sam and I were already on our way here."

He gently lowered Dean's arms to his sides and Dean groaned in pain, closing his eyes again. "So glad to see you guys."

Cas sat on the other side of the bed and put a hand on Dean's forehead, closing his eyes as he assessed his injuries. "I can heal the wounds, but everything else, the blood loss and the dehydration, will have to be repaired in its own time."

A glow appeared under his palm and Dean's wounds started to close, the bruises disappear. Sam watched Dean's body relax as the pain dissipated and he lay limply when Cas had finished the healing, just breathing heavily.

Sam helped his brother into a sitting position. Dean seemed sluggish, light-headed, and he was probably horribly thirsty. Sam pulled his jacket off as he watched Dean shiver.

"Come on, there's probably some water and snacks in the car," Sam said.

"You find my baby?" Dean asked as Sam helped him sit up, propping him against his shoulder as he helped Dean into the coat and his brother slumped heavily against him.

Sam rolled his eyes fondly. "Yes, Dean."

"Good, now let's get the hell out of here."

"What, leaving so soon?"

They all turned to the door and Sam did a double take as he saw Crowley there, holding an old Luger. Needless to say the King of Hell was the last person Sam had expected to show up.

Cas instantly stepped forward, positioning himself between the demon and the Winchesters.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"Why, Cas, I'm hurt," Crowley said. "Is that any way to treat your old business partner?" Before any of them could make a move, Crowley shot Cas in the stomach.

The angel went down with a strangled cry and Sam was horrified to see that the wound sparked with grace.

"Cas!" Sam and Dean cried at once. Sam tried to get up to help their friend but Crowley held up a hand, keeping him on the bed.

"Like it?" Crowley asked, nodding to the gun. "I had my R&D people melt down an angel blade. You're a tricky one to find, Cas, but it just so happens that I have an angel on the payroll, one of Naomi's. He tipped me off that they almost caught you and it was only a matter of time before one of my demons found out that the Winchester mobile was seen in this area so I figured this was as good a bet as any to where you might be."

"What do you want?" Dean demanded.

Crowley ignored him, stepping over to Cas. Sam tried to go to the angel's aid again, but Crowley still had him and Dean stuck fast, unable to leave their position on the bed.

"Not now, grown-ups talking," Crowley told them. "I'm not here for you this time." He turned back to Cas who was shifting around, trying to pull himself up, but Crowley sighed, shoving him back with the toe of his foot.

"I'm surprised Naomi didn't see it," Crowley said conversationally. "Considering she'd been in that head of yours so often, but I suppose it's to my benefit she didn't after all. Her loss." He crouched down beside Cas and the angel struggled onto his elbow to glower at the demon.

"What are you talking about?" he demanded.

"The Angel Tablet, darling," Crowley said, rolling his eyes. "I'm sure Naomi would be mighty upset if she figured out it had been under her nose the whole time. You see…" He grabbed Cas' wrist as the angel reached for his blade which had fallen out of his coat. Crowley sent it spinning away across the room. "I was thinking to myself, 'self, if Castiel got away by touching the Tablet, why would he ever stop touching it?'" He shoved Cas onto his back, making the angel cringe in pain. "And then I thought to myself, 'self, he _hasn't_ stopped touching the Tablet, now, has he?'"

Sam knew what was going to happen the instant before Crowley ripped open Cas' shirt. "No!" he cried, struggling pointlessly as he and Dean were forced to watch as Crowley shoved his hand into the bullet wound in Cas' stomach.

The angel threw his head back with a scream of agony, writhing on the ground as Crowley wrenched the Tablet out of his abdomen and stood with the bloody thing in his hands."

"Ah, there we go," he said, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe it off before glancing back down at Cas who was moaning on the ground. "You should thank me, really, Cas. Without this, Naomi and the others won't be after you anymore." He smirked at the Winchesters and then disappeared.

Sam and Dean were released from his hold and they practically collapsed on the floor next to Cas.

"Cas!" Dean cried, horror in his eyes as they crawled to their injured friend. "What the hell was that?"

Cas panted, prying his eyes open. "What—what I had to do."

Sam looked at his brother's stricken face, knowing he was probably mirroring it. How could everything have gone wrong so quickly?

All he knew now was that they needed to get Cas out of there and somewhere safe.


	6. Chapter 6

Despite the fact that Cas had healed his injuries, Dean's body still ached. He was weak from hunger and blood loss, and looking at Cas lying there with a hole ripped in his gut made him want to throw up.

"We gotta get him out of here," Dean said, using the bed to stagger to his feet before reaching down to grab one of Cas' arms. Sam grabbed his other and together they eased the angel carefully up.

Cas let out a pained grunt from between his teeth as if trying to bite it back, pressing a hand against the wound in his stomach as if to hold himself together.

"We can go back to the motel," Sam said as they took most of Cas' weight.

It wasn't easy getting Cas out of there. He could barely keep his own feet and Dean wasn't much better so the stairs were a disaster waiting to happen. Sam didn't look like he was doing too well either if he was being honest. They made quite the team.

They stepped past all the beheaded vampires and Dean gave them a satisfied look. His only regret was that he hadn't gotten to do it himself.

"Angels…" Cas murmured as they stepped out the door before hissing in pain.

"What about them?" Sam asked. "Are they coming again?"

"Will be…" Cas grunted. "Soon. Gotta…" He sagged, head dropping to his chest as Sam and Dean shifted frantically to support his now dead weight.

"What does he mean, angels?" Dean demanded.

"Naomi's been after him this whole time, that's why he ran," Sam told him. "We had a run in with them yesterday."

Dean shook his head. "Idiot. He would have been safer with us."

Sam huffed a humorless laugh. "Maybe next time you'll take that advice yourself."

Dean bit his lip, but the bite in his brother's voice was obviously concealing the pain. "Touché," he muttered.

They hauled Cas the rest of the way to the Impala and laid him in the backseat. Sam rummaged through the trunk and grabbed the first aid kit.

Cas was stirring by the time Dean got back in. "Have to…have to get back to…bunker," Cas gritted out, letting out an involuntary cry as Sam peeled his shirt open and pressed a wad of gauze against the wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

"Cas you're hurt bad, we can't drive all the way back with you like this," Sam protested.

Cas reached up and gripped his wrist. "I'll survive the trip, but we need to keep going or we will not survive Naomi. I can't…I can't defend you in this condition."

Sam glanced over at Dean, and Dean swallowed hard. A twenty-hour drive wasn't what he wanted to do right after having been a captive of vamps for a week but…

"Alright, we'll do it."

"Okay, but I'm driving," Sam insisted, carefully closing the back door.

"Sammy…"

"Dean, you look terrible, and you need to eat and drink before you pass out," Sam insisted, then more quietly. "I'm fine. Promise."

Dean pressed his lips into a thin line. He didn't like it, but Sam was right. At this point they didn't really have another choice and Sam, as bad off as he was, was in the best condition out of the three of them. "Okay, but you let me know if you need me to spell you."

Sam nodded. "Fine. But let's not waste any more time about it."

They drove. Dean felt a little better after eating a couple protein bars and drinking water. He was exhausted, but he couldn't sleep. He kept glancing in the back at Cas who seemed to be unconscious again, and Sam, who was hiding it well, but Dean could tell he was in pain and suffering from the Trials still. He still had a fever flush against his cheeks and he had dark circles under his eyes, giving them a hollowed-out look.

"I'm sorry this happened, Sam," Dean said after a while.

Sam glanced over at him with a shrug. "I'm just glad we found you."

"Me too," Dean said softly. "I'm glad you called Cas in though."

"Yeah, I don't think I would have made it without him," Sam said with an honesty that made Dean feel nauseous. He never should have gone on that hunt, should have passed it off to someone else. He'd made Sam leave the safety of the bunker when he was feeling like crap, and caused Cas to get caught by the angels. It was a miracle any of them had gotten out alive at all, but Cas was doing his best to change that statistic.

Dean dozed a little bit, aching body pressed against the window of his baby, lulled by her rumbling engine, but at the halfway point, he called it. Sam was looking more and more exhausted, slumping in the seat, his left elbow propped on the window, holding his chin up.

"Okay, pull over and let me drive," Dean insisted.

The fact that Sam didn't argue, made Dean realize just how bad off he was. They pulled into a gas station and Dean got out, filling up, and running to the restroom to change quickly, realizing that he was still in just Sam's jacket and his filthy jeans.

When he got back out, Sam was checking on Cas who was still asleep. Dean glanced over Sam's shoulder and his gut twisted when he saw that Cas' wound didn't seem to be healing at all, which was worrying.

"Come on, let's get him back."

Dean climbed behind the wheel and Sam slumped into the passenger seat. They weren't even a mile down the road, before Sam was completely asleep. Dean felt worry gnaw at his insides. Cas should recover once they got him back to the bunker. He could rest in safety, not worrying about that bitch Naomi and her lackeys, but Sam…Sam wasn't going to get better until he finished the Trials and even then, well, Dean didn't know what would happen. He didn't know if Sam would miraculously recover or if he would just continue to get worse until…

Dean shook his head. He didn't want to think about it. He was safe now, on his way home, and he would be there for his brother again, taking care of him despite the eye rolls and bitch faces.

And he would be there for Cas too. Dean didn't want to admit it, but he felt a crushing guilt about how he'd treated the angel. Not only had be failed to get Cas out of Purgatory, but he'd left him to be taken to Heaven and made into Naomi's puppet. And when Cas came back and Dean had noticed something off about him, he still hadn't pressed enough. And then he'd been pissed at him for leaving but really, why should he have been? He hadn't bothered to help before, so why would Cas think he would help him after the fact?

Now though, Cas needed them. He was cut off from Heaven, a fugitive. The angels may be after him but it wasn't like they hadn't been in tight spots before. Cas might worry he was putting them in danger, but they were _always_ in danger. If he'd learned anything from the hunt he had just gone on, it was that sticking together and having each other's backs was always the better option. Besides, with the bunker, now they had a place they could truly feel safe. It's wasn't like just hiding out in hunter safe houses and obscure motels. Even Naomi and her lackeys wouldn't be able to find them there.

He was exhausted by the time he pulled up in front of the bunker. He reached over and nudged Sam's shoulder. His brother groaned and shifted wearily, peeling himself away from the window.

"Whatisit?" he murmured.

"We're back," Dean told him. "Need you to wake up a little so you can help me get Cas inside."

Sam glanced around, looking slightly lost, and Dean was glad they were back. He hauled himself out of the car and opened the back door, reaching out to squeeze Cas' shoulder.

"Hey, Cas, buddy, we're back now."

The angel stirred and his eyes blinked open. He started to sit up but collapsed almost instantly with a groan. Dean patted his shoulder. "Easy, we'll help you up."

He offered Cas his hands and the angel took them and allowed Dean to pull him upright and slide him out of the car. Cas bit back sounds of discomfort and nearly collapsed once Dean got him on his feet. Dean shoved his shoulder under Cas' arm and braced him with an arm around his back.

"Okay, okay," he murmured, starting toward the bunker's entrance.

Sam had woken himself up enough to help and came to steady Cas' other side, producing the key to the bunker from his pocket.

It wasn't easy, but they got Cas inside and down the stairs, pulling him into one of the bedrooms. Cas cried out as they lowered him as gently as possible onto the bed and he lay there panting.

"Okay, Sammy, go grab our med kit," Dean said and Sam nodded, heading off to get what they needed.

Cas shifted, opening his eyes. "I'll—I'll be fine once the bullet's out. Can't—can't heal with it in."

Dean's jaw clenched and he patted Cas' shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry, man, we'll have it out in no time. Sammy and I are kind of experts."

"I can imagine," Cas said with some wry humor, looking Dean up and down with heavy scrutiny. "How are you?"

Dean's eyebrows shot up. "How am I? Dude, I'm not the one who got a rock ripped out of my gut—and on that topic, what the hell were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that I didn't want to chance Naomi taking control of my mind again," Cas said seriously. "Touching the Tablet was the only way I knew for certain she couldn't…" He trailed off, biting his lip and looking away.

"Then if you knew you were safe, why did you run?"

Cas shook his head. "They were after me, I didn't want to bring that trouble to you. Not with Sam sick and you worrying about him. You didn't need another burden."

Dean sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. "Cas, man, I worried about you too, you know. Your trouble is our trouble."

"You don't want my trouble."

"I don't want my trouble either, doesn't mean we're not gonna deal with it together. We're family. Remember when I told you you were like a brother to me?"

Cas looked away. "Yes, and then I betrayed you. After you asked me not to go ahead with my desperate plans to fight Raphael."

"Yeah, well, Sam's done some things I've wanted to punch him in the face for too, and I still love him. He's still my brother. Nothing is ever gonna change that."

Cas' eyes looked up to meet his, and the small flicker of hope there nearly tore a hole in Dean's heart. That was a hope he hadn't seen in, well, a long friggen' time. Not since Purgatory anyway, and not for a long time before that either.

"Fact is, you came for me when I really needed a hand, and you looked after Sammy when I couldn't, even though you had Naomi on your tail the whole time. I just want a chance to return the favor." He backtracked a little. "And not because I think I owe you, or you owe us, but because that's what family does."

"Family," Cas said softly as if testing the word.

"Family," Dean replied firmly.

Cas exhaled deeply and winced as he shifted on the bed to try and find a more comfortable position. "Well, I'll… need help getting the Tablet back from Crowley now. Though I think we may need a couple days of recuperation before that."

Dean chuckled dryly. "Agreed."

He helped Cas out of his coat and shirt and was just tucking the bloody clothes aside as Sam came in with a tray loaded with first aid supplies.

"I found some stuff in the infirmary that I thought we might need," he said.

Dean nodded and set the tray on the bedside table. "Alright, my hand's steadier, so…you just hold onto him."

Sam swallowed hard but nodded, going around the bed to sit next to Cas and put a hand on his shoulder in preparation.

Cas watched as Dean prepped the items he would need, wetting a cloth in alcohol first. "Okay, this isn't gonna feel good, but angel or not, may as well not tempt the bacteria." He pressed it to the wound and Cas' back arched off the bed as a cry was pulled from his throat. Sam pressed him back and Dean cleaned the area of the bullet wound of excess blood so he could better see what he was doing. It looked awful since Crowley had torn the flesh further yanking the Tablet out.

Dean turned back to the table, and grabbed a pair of forceps giving them a swipe with the alcohol as well. He glanced over and met Sam's eye and the younger man nodded, shifting so that he was putting his full weight on Cas.

Dean gripped Cas' thigh with one hand to help hold him still and prepared to go in for the bullet. "Sorry in advance, man."

He put the forceps in and felt Cas' body flinch. The angel groaned, tensing, his hands fisting in the sheets. Dean felt around with the forceps and knew when he had hit the bullet because he felt metal on metal and also Cas cried out in agony.

"Okay, okay, I got it, we're almost done." He gripped the bullet and carefully pulled it out.

Cas screamed, his head tossing against the pillow as Sam practically threw himself on top of the angel to hold him down. Dean pulled the bullet from the wound as a spark of blue grace flared in the bullet hole.

Dean tossed the bullet and forceps onto the tray, and grabbed a swatch of gauze to clean the area, pressing down to stop the bleeding.

"There we go, we're almost done."

Cas lay limp, breathing heavily, looking wrung out. Sam had grabbed another cloth and was wiping the sweat from his forehead. Dean washed his hands and then threaded a needle. He quickly finished the sutures, tying them off efficiently, then taping fresh gauze over the wound.

"There we go, all done."

Cas blinked up at them with pain-dulled eyes. "I—I should heal with rest."

"Take all the time you need," Dean told him, squeezing his shoulder gently. Sam got off the bed and pulled a blanket from the foot of it, pulling it up to drape over Cas and tucking it around his shoulders as Dean picked up the tray.

Cas looked around, seeming slightly wary, and Dean went over to the chair he had set Cas' clothes on, retrieving his angel blade. He put it on the bedside table.

"Just in case," he said. "But you're safe here. If anything comes through that door it's gonna have to fight me first. Just rest, Cas. Focus on getting better."

Cas seemed to relax into the mattress, his eyes drooping. "Thank you," he said.

"Anytime," Dean murmured, the words heavier than they should have been, and left a lamp on the desk lit before he and Sam slipped out of the room, leaving the door ajar so they could hear if Cas needed anything.

Sam turned to Dean, reaching for the tray. "Here, I'll take care of this. I'm sure you want a shower."

Dean didn't even protest. He went to his room to grab clean clothes and hurried to the shower.

He cranked the water up hot and scrubbed himself roughly. All the blood and filth had left him when Cas had used his healing mojo, but he still _felt_ that place on him; the vampires' hands as they pressed close and sank their fangs into him, dragging their tongues along his skin to get every last drop of blood. He shuddered, forcing himself to breathe deeply. He was home now. The bloodsuckers were dead. He didn't have to worry about that anymore.

He turned off the water, toweling dry and dressing before he went back out.

He smelled something cooking, or rather burning, and went to the kitchen, seeing Sam at the stove.

"The hell?" Dean asked.

Sam made a face. "Well, I was trying to make bacon and eggs…"

Dean shooed him over to the table and finished up, barely saving the bacon. The eggs were already beyond hope, but he was too hungry to care. He put the food on two plates and set one in front of Sam.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, Dean watching his brother out of the corner of his eye, seeing him pick at his food. Worry knotted his stomach, knowing that Sammy still wasn't doing too well. Sam beat him to the question though.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

Dean shrugged. "Tired. Sore. Nothing a solid eight hours can't fix. Cas did most of the work and after eating and getting rehydrated I feel pretty good." He narrowed his eyes then. "What about you?"

Sam sighed and put his fork back on his half-eaten plate of food, pushing it away. "I'm not getting better, Dean. And I won't until the Trials are over."

Dean pressed his lips into a thin line and stood up, grabbing both their plates and taking them over to the sink before he turned around and leaned against the counter. "I know that. But Sammy, you gotta let me take care of you, man. Hell, it's the only thing I _can_ do."

Sam got up too and shoved his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the wall. "I know. And…I may need it more than I let on."

Dean raised an eyebrow, studying his brother.

"When you disappeared…" Sam wet his lips, shifting slightly before he looked up and Dean saw his eyes were wet. "When I thought I may have lost you, I think I realized just how much I couldn't do this alone. So, don't…don't go off like that again."

Dean felt Sam's pain and he stepped forward, the leftover fear and stepped toward him. "I won't, I promise. C'mere." He reached out and Sam shuffled forward a step, allowing Dean to pull him into a firm hug, scrunching down to rest his head on Dean's shoulder. Dean held his brother tightly, feeling the low fever burning under his skin and the too-prominent bones from Sam's poor appetite and he vowed they would finish this thing as soon as possible.

Sam pulled back and swiped at his eyes as Dean clapped him on the shoulder.

"Come on, we'll have a lot of work to do but right now it's time to rest."

Sam nodded in agreement and he and Dean traveled back to the dormitory wing. Dean looked in on Cas and saw the angel sleeping deeply, unconsciousness, and hopefully his grace, working to smooth out some of the lines of pain in his face.

Sam stopped before he retired to his room and glanced back at Dean. "Hey. G'night, Jerk."

Dean's mouth turned up at one corner and he nodded. "G'night, Bitch."

They went to their rooms and dropped onto their beds in sheer exhaustion. Dean clutched his pillow under his head and closed his eyes. They really did have a hell of a lot of crap that they needed to figure out, but tonight? Tonight they slept.


End file.
